


Kùnhuò ( 困惑 )

by vacci_piano



Series: Omega Assassins [8]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Gen, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Murder Kink, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Omega Verse, Past Child Abuse, Torture, Violence, Weimar Germany, erotophonophilia (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:00:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23785927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vacci_piano/pseuds/vacci_piano
Summary: The omega died in China. The alpha died in Russia. She lives.
Relationships: Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova & Family, Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova & Nikolai Orelov, Shao Jun & Zhang
Series: Omega Assassins [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704466
Kudos: 1





	Kùnhuò ( 困惑 )

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for: mentions of past rape (first paragraph only and told from an outsider’s POV), abuse, torture, forced body-modification on a child, sadism and implied erotophonophilia a.k.a. murder kink.

Story goes, a once famous concubine had fallen out of favor with the Emperor. Before her servants are to escort her away, a group of the lowest nobles pay a hefty sum for her. She is unsuspecting as she is lead to an empty room. When the men are done with her, she is left at the front steps of the palace, stripped of everything but her tatters so it will be known what has been done, and her lower half is splayed for all the world to see; spilled seed pouring out of her, her ruined flower stretched beyond recognition as it tries to close and squeeze around a phantom knot, or ten. But it will never close.

“Her golden lily feet will not help her now.” The smaller the bound feet, the stronger the muscles for lovemaking.

Shao Jun looks at her own feet, and from that day, throws herself into her dancing. Let her keep her feet, if the Emperor is of two minds with his concubines; if she is talented enough, they might just let her.

In no time at all, her promise as a skilled dancer overshadows her promise as a future concubine. Her rivalry with Zhang is born from humor than actual want to succeed as the favored – even if every child is taught to want the Emperor’s love – so it is with relief she accepts that her feet will be left unbound.

She watches when one of the palace doctors breaks Zhang’s oiled feet, the girl’s cries something horrible, no friend should have to witness it. To dull the senses, a medicine has been given, but it is working too slow; not much can be given to a child. Jun lets Zhang squeeze her hand until it feels like breaking, too. Zhang is allowed to keep her big toes, but everything else gets crushed and pulled, bent double. Once the silk is in place and wrapped tight, they force Zhang to walk.

When their beds are warmed and they slip in side by side, Jun ignores the bruising on her hands. It is nothing compared to what she has been spared. She lifts a lock of Zhang’s hair and touches it to her lips. “Are you not afraid?”

Zhang shakes her head, her cheeks still red from crying earlier. “I will become the favoured.” And then, because Jun’s thoughts are so terrible, she asks her friend what will happen, if Zhang presents as an alpha. She will be a concubine no longer. Zhang does not answer at first.

“I have decided. I _will_ be favoured.” Jun believes her friend. She closes her eyes, and together, they slumber.

All about the palace, everyone sleeps, everyone so quiet, you might not think thousands live here. The older concubines, usually full of cheer and songs, have grown somber. Tonight, they still feel empathy for the little ones. Come tomorrow, their heads will be filled with worry for the coming days. They will gently sway with bound feet of their own, teaching the young how best to entice.

When she wakes, she is laying on a slab of metal. She is not a concubine; she is rage, knowledge and skill, her body belongs to the Creed. That these men who have hurt her dare to wear the insignia of her brothers and sisters gouges deep.

The strange (familiar) man behind the glass keeps calling for Anya _, Anastasia_ , and hearing the name, she falls into her memories.

Sweet, kind Olga, with love to give to more than a few officers, suffering from heartbreak when her new beloved bonds to another. Tatiana has beauty over anyone else, she can afford to be picky; she berates Olga for her tastes, Maria for her flirting, but Anastasia knows Tatiana’s secret. There is an officer, whose heart has her name written on it, and Tatiana is eager to claim it. Anna has never been in love like her sisters. She wonders if that will change when she presents; doesn’t see why it should. She will be the same person then, as she has been thus far.

Those born to royalty usually have two pledged mates from birth – one alpha, one omega – to ensure the success of at least one match, no matter how one presents. Her mother thinks different, and her father is ready to agree. If his daughters marry, it should be for love.

“Which one are you?” Tatiana asks, impatient as ever.

What?

“Are you omegan or alpha?”

She… Who is she?

Anastasia had screamed, hadn’t she? When the spikes in her head became too much. And then she was… She is Jun… Anastasia. The man calls her Anastasia. Alpha. Omega? Her body is Anastasia’s but her graceful, dancer’s motions belong to Jun.

She watches in satisfaction as the light leaves from the eyes of her torturer, and she allows herself another touch with the borrowed knife to encourage the flow of more blood. _Oh_ , but she has missed this, yet this is also new for her. Isn’t it?

She feels herself grow excited, _wet_. She _wants_ to keep going. One by one they fall. A sliced neck, throat, ankle, heart. This man has two eyes, she could take one, but she’s in a hurry, no time to play.

_What have they done to her?_

Nikolai calms her down, enveloping her in a hug, squeezing away her fears. The worst has already passed. She thought she would never have this again, now that her family is dead, this kind of warmth; someone cares that she lives. She is Anastasia Romanova no longer, she is not Shao Jun, transformed; Anna Anderson is the sum of both, and more. Nikolai gave her this name with forged papers, but she intends to keep it.

“Spasibo, Kolya.”

*

Anna heads to Germany as Nikolai advised her. She takes in the line of children, no parents in tow, who face the border with nothing more than a name, age and destination written on the cardboard signs hanging from their thin necks.

There are also the adults who look nothing like the people they’re surrounded by; they’re separated into groups, for longer interviews. Anna readies herself, expecting the same treatment when it’s her turn to be inspected. She doesn’t remember the colour of her hair until after she’s been granted a pass.

*

Anna plays with the lukewarm water, her eyes taking in the room. Intricate wallpaper decorates the walls; there are no pictures, save for one, a picture of the owner’s favourite mistress. Anna had found all the other pictures and locks of hair hidden in a drawer, after she had had her fun and the alpha was already dead. She doesn’t think the woman in the preferred picture will miss much.

Once she gets out of the bath, she carefully selects what she can wear with her frame, pulling out pieces from the closet. One tuxedo comes with silk lapels; she slips it on, before hiding under her own nondescript coat in muddled brown. She cut her hair short, earlier, like that of a boy’s, and it’s easily hidden under a cap. She changes her mind and flings it away. Let people see her; they’ll pay her much more attention if she tries to hide. A pair of gloves are crammed into her pocket.

Anna thought she’d find this place reminiscent of her old lifestyle, with its expensive furniture, vases full of flowers and velvet curtains. It doesn’t feel like much of anything. Earlier, she was looking for a place to spend her heat, until she remembered she shouldn’t have one. And just like that, her fake heat was over. Most of the time she can control the memories, the shift. Sometimes she doesn’t want to, when she needs that extra push.

Anna decides to leave the corpse untouched and the door unlocked when she makes her way outside.

_Why do you only call for me when you need lust? I have learned to feel nothing else in this body._

Anna doesn’t answer. Maybe she doesn’t know how to.

The blame on Germany for the faults of many are felt by every citizen. The rich who buoy atop the disastrous economy without a danger to their own pockets and those of greater social standing have either isolated themselves in mansions or grand apartments, away from the poor; those with the means and in fear of increased hatred and rising agitation among the masses have left the country altogether. The workers in the city work, work, work, and are left with nothing. They carry money in bags with a specific list of items in mind, and by the time they get to buying, the price has doubled, tripled, times hundred.

What is there left to do but throw caution to the wind and live life to the fullest, as they’re able? People can still drink, dance and mingle.

Anna doesn’t know where she belongs. Even without money, she can get by just fine. She’s discovered many new things about herself, like how she no longer cares for the finer things in life like she thought she would. She cares about people – if she had people to care for – but there are no people left who’d care for her… All except for Nikolai.

It had been easy to find Assassins in Germany, since she knew what to look for. Anna never joined them, wary of what had been done to her in Russia, but she’s been keeping watch. Some of them have been talking about relocating to America.

Anna thinks she might go with.

*

A gentleman is waiting outside the club, waiting for his ride to arrive. He’s so drunk, he doesn’t feel it when Anna slips off his untied scarf from his neck. His top hat disappears, and even that doesn’t rouse his attention.

Gentleman Anna hands in her borrowed invitation at the door and slips inside. One or two flash their smiles at her queer appearance, but she ignores them in favor of her target. The Russian is sitting at a brightly lit table with his associates, near the bar. _Careless_.

She takes a seat and listens. As luck is ever on her side, she doesn’t have to wait for long until her old name comes up. There have been sightings of her – of course there have, she allowed them – and like pigs to the slaughter, they’ve come snorting, _greedy_ , in search of who they think they have a right to.

Anna drums her fingers against the counter and gets herself a drink. One by one the Russian’s associates leave the table in search of fun and a willing, warm body to entertain them, and then the Russian is excusing himself to the restroom. Anna follows.

With ease, she lets Jun come out. Carefully, she incapacitates and muffles The Russian momentarily, before placing a towel under the door and leaving the sinks running. He doesn’t have to be heard, but he does have to talk.

The Russian is well-informed. Anna has found Nikolai. The Assassins will never find the princess, for how could they?

*

Translations:

Kùnhuò ( 困惑 ) = confused

Spasibo ( Спасибо ) = thank you

**Author's Note:**

> Taking wild liberties with canon? That’s me. Shao Jun’s character seems to change drastically depending on canon material. So in the end I was like, whatever, I’m doing my own thing.


End file.
